Couldn't leave good enough alone
by ilrahcbow
Summary: Britain is sick of Germany being too forceful and Italy being pathetic and cowardly, so he decides to make a change. With the use of magic, he attempts to give some of Italy's personality to Germany and some of Germany's to Italy. But how successful will his magic be and will the outcome be what he expected? Rated T for Britain's mouth.
1. Chapter 1

1

"Ugh." Britain sighed heavily, the noise lost in the chaos around him, and threw his head back in frustration. "Another disastrous meeting." he thought. "Frog-face has been at me all morning, Russia hasn't stopped creeping China out since he arrived, Japan's asleep, America's stuffing his face in the corner-is that someone sitting next to him, who is that? I don't know. And then there's _those two_." Britain's focus landed on Germany and Italy. Germany stood over the other man's chair, shaking his flimsy body with force, Italy wailing pathetically all the while. "Italy's like a petulant child." Britain mused to himself. "If Germany didn't have to keep shouting at him every two seconds, his attention might be more focused on controlling these meetings. I sometimes wish Italy could have a bit more Germany in him, and Germany a bit more Italy. That way, their mannerisms would be more... _balanced_ and we all might actually be better off for it. Germany could lead in a firm but fairer way and Italy...well, I suppose he might input genuinely useful ideas." A small smile grew on Britain's face. His eyes darkened. "Suppose I was to... _intervene_ and put this idea into practise...I just need the right opportunity-"

"Black sheep of Europe! Black sheep of Europe!" a familiar voice chimed in the man's ears.

" _Wanker_! You broke my train of thought!" Britain hurled a pen upon the table in anger, snapping it in half.

2

Britain forced his way through the rest of the meeting, often finding himself lapsing in and out of consciousness. Eventually, at the sound of rustling papers and the screeching of chairs, Britain lifted his head. All the countries had left their desks and were piling out of the board room.

"Crap!" In a panic, Britain stumbled to his feet and scooped up all his papers-stuffing the broken pen in his jacket pocket, running as fast as he could towards the door. Over the sea of heads, the man could make out the unmistakable flash of blonde German hair-and where there was Germany, there would be Italy. Britain needed to think fast or his opportunity would disappear. Suddenly landing on the perfect idea, Britain seized the two halves of the broken pen from his pocket and held them out in front of him, the sharp, jagged edges first. He ducked and squeezed past the other nations, catching up quickly with his two targets. Britain hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. To avoid looking more obvious than he already did, he pretended to trip and fell forward. In the process, Britain was able to slash both men's arms with the two halves of the pen. Italy and Germany whipped round at once.

"Schizer! What the _hell_ , Britain!" Germany barked. Britain forced an apologetic smile.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry, Germany, Italy. I just tripped!"

"You broke your pen too!" Italy piped up, pointing to the two small weapons in the man's hand.

" _Oh_!" Britain cried. "Look at that, so I have! Oh well, it was almost run out anyway. Sorry, once again-I'll be more careful next time." Germany grunted in annoyance and turned away. Italy smiled sympathetically, wiping the cut on his arm.

"That's OK! It doesn't even hurt that bad!" Italy turned back round and continued to walk with Germany. Britain smiled contentedly and looked down at the two halves of the pen. The jagged edge of the plastic was rimmed with small droplets of blood.

"Perfect." he whispered under his breath.

3

Britain reached home in good time-luck was on his side it seemed; no one stopped him or wondered about his intent. Almost all the blood had stayed on the pen-miraculously-and Britain only hoped there was enough of it to work a spell. Donning his black cape, Britain unlocked the door to the basement, a cold draft escaping upon opening the ancient stone door. The man's footsteps gave off small, rounded echoes as he descended the cold, steep stairs. With a click of his fingers, the candles at the foot of the stairs ignited simultaneously, one by one and illuminated the vast space ahead. Still holding the two halves of the pen in one hand, Britain picked up a thick, embroidery backed book with the other and walked to the centre of the room. He turned each page with delicacy, making sure not to damage the worn and fragile pages. Upon finding the correct page, Britain lowered his head and began whispering a silent spell. His hair began to move with a slight stir of the air around him. He opened his eyes. A glowing purple pentagon appeared on the floor before him. Britain nodded with approval and continued on. He took a step towards the pentagon and tipped the first half of the pen upside down-Britain was unsure who's blood this was but was reassured he would soon find out. Droplets of blood lingered on the sharp edges of the plastic before eventually falling one by one into the magic realm. Britain recited another spell, more loudly this time, glancing down at the book every now and again. Suddenly, from the pentagon, a cloud of purple smoke sprung and coiled itself tightly to form the rough outline of Germany's figure. Britain stepped back in surprise. The smoke wavered this way and that, the face was obscured, but it was unmistakably Germany's silhouette. That meant the other blood belonged to Italy. Britain repeated the process again and sure enough, the same thing happened. A smoky outline of Italy appeared next to Germany. Britain stood admiring the queer sight for a moment before focusing his attention on the task at hand. He dropped the two halves of the pen, whose purpose had now been fulfilled, and cradled the book with both hands.

"The intent of this magic: to change and enhance,

Now give me the power to help and advance,

The beings before us for which they must give,

Blood for blood, and happier they'll live!" Britain cried. He watched in awe as a burst of light appeared from the chests of both apparitions and crossed the outline of their body. Both balls of light collided in-between the two figures and continued on their way into the other's body. Then, in a short explosion of brilliant white, Britain found himself blinded, his hair and cape whipping violently in the momentum. He held up both arms in front of his face, shielding himself. Upon drawing his arms away, he found the pentagon and all it's illusions gone. All the candles were out, rising smoke just visible in the darkness. Britain looked around, as if expecting something else to happen. Silence drowned the room. A grin warmed on the man's face. "I guess I did it."

End of Chapter 1

A/N: Hey! Thanks for reading-if you liked it, let me know, it really helps!

Stay tuned for the next chapter where the result of Britain's magic is revealed-was it successful? You'll have to wait and see ;3


	2. Chapter 2

Germany opened his eyes slowly, blinking repeatedly. He frowned. Had there always been a lamp hanging above him? Was the ceiling above him that of his own bedroom?Slightly confused but assured his consciousness was just clouding his sense of reality, the man shifted under the cover and turned on his side. To his surprise, Germany felt less effort in turning over, as if he were lighter somehow. _Impossible_ , he thought. He outstretched an arm from under the sheets to reach for the upturned alarm clock on the bedside cabinet. _That's Italy's clock. Why's it here? That idiot._ Germany righted the clock and checked the time. The clock read ' _5:49'._ He would have to wake up it ten minutes. Was it worth going back to sleep for that brief amount of time? The man decided it was not, and, with all the confusing questions spiralling in his head, realised he was too awake to fall back asleep anyway. With a laboured sigh, Germany swung his legs out of bed and flung away the covers. He sat up and rubbed his face. He suddenly froze. The man gently dabbed his fingers down his cheeks-they did not follow the contours he remembered. His whole face was _smaller_ and _rounder. What the..._ Germany drew his hands away from his face and made to stand up. Upon catching a glimpse of his clothes, he promptly dropped back upon the bed. He was wearing a pink vest!

"What the hell? This is Italy's top. Why is it on m-" It was then that Germany looked down at his legs. They were thin and flimsy-all his muscle appeared to have vanished. A sense of panic began to wash over Germany. He wiped his brow, only to find his arm tickled by low hanging auburn bangs. This was enough. The man leapt to his feet and rushed to the mirror in the corner of the room.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" The man screamed in an alien, high pitched voice. The reflection before him did not depict Germany at all; Italy's amber eyes stared back at him in horror.

At the sound of screaming from the next room, Italy shot up, flinging the bed covers to one side.

"Germany?" he mumbled quietly, suddenly surprised at the tone of his voice. It was deeper and rougher than usual. Concluding that maybe he hit puberty for the second time, Italy got quickly out of bed to see if Germany was OK. Upon standing up, he found he was also taller than normal; the bed seemed lower down and further away. _Wait,_ he thought. _This is Germany's room! What am I doing here?_ Just as he made to open the bedroom door, he realised the size of his arm-it had grown! And there was now firm, toned muscle all the way up to his shoulder. Somewhat disturbed, Italy moved hastily over to the mirror on the wall, apparently ignoring the scream that sounded less than a minute ago. Italy gasped and let out a sharp cry-clapping a hand over his mouth. H stumbled backwards and supported himself on the windowsill. Germany's body was reflected in the glass. Without fully comprehending the situation, Italy stumbled out of the bedroom in terror and into the corridor. To his surprise, his _normal_ body staggered out of his _normal_ bedroom. Italy let out another cry of fear and turned in the other direction, finding he could run much faster in this new body.

"Wait!" his own familiar voice called behind him, an angry tone he never heard before, now audible. " _Stop_! Italy, is that you?!" Italy ignored the other and continued to sprint as fast as he could down the corridor. Upon seeing a dead end up ahead, Italy froze and quickly hid behind a washing line. The other caught up and collectedly knelt beside him.

"I could see you from a mile off." he said. "It's the hair." Italy reached up and softly patted the blonde hair on his head.

"Germany?" Italy eventually piped up. The man nodded and outstretched his hand. Italy took it and got to his feet. Germany craned his neck to look at the other.

"What the hell happened to us?!" Germany cried in a squeaky, Italian-accented rage. Italy couldn't help but giggle. He smirked and cupped a hand to his mouth.

"I don't know but you sure sound funny, Germany!"

"I sound like _you_ , Italy." Germany responded coldly. The man suddenly whipped round and paced the floor irritably. "Ugh!" he groaned through gritted teeth, throwing his head back and clenching his fists. "Why _me_! And why _him_ of all people! What have I really done to deserve this!"

"Hey Germany-"

"No!" Germany snapped, spinning back round, holding one finger firmly in front of him. "I don't want to hear another word! We have to figure out who did this to us and how they can change us back!"

"But how do we do tha-"

"I don't know!" he cried, stress and light fear glistening in his eyes for a moment. "I don't know." he repeated, quieter and defeatedly. But whatever we do, we can't let anyone notice the change, OK?" Italy nodded his head. Germany brought a hand to his chin and thought, his amber eyes darting back and forth on the floor. The man suddenly gasped sharply, his face darkening.

"Schizer! The world meeting-that's this afternoon!" Germany clutched the roots of his hair, gritting his teeth. "What are we going to do! If _I_ try and control the meeting, people will get suspicious because never has Italy tried to take _charge_ of something! Then, if _you_ try and control the meeting-"

"Oh no! Please don't make _me_ do that!" Italy wailed.

" _Exactly_! You _see_ , you'll be just as suspicious! But we can't sit back and let the meeting slip into more chaos than it would normally, especially not on a world scale! They need my authority, but not when I'm stuck in _your_ stupid body! And we can't just _not_ attend."

"Why not?"

"Ugh." Germany passed a hand to his head. "People would...they would get _ideas_ that something was going on between us."

"But there _is_ something going on between us."

"NO THERE'S _NOT_!" Germany bellowed. Italy shrank down sheepishly against the wall and sniffed. "We can't possibly go like this." he sighed. "We'll be noticed before we even open our mouths." Germany swung both hands to his hips and pouted. "Of all the ridiculous things I've been through with you, I never thought it would come to this." He continued to mumble unintelligibly to himself as he scratched his arm. He suddenly winced and drew his hand quickly away.

"What is it, Germany?" Italy asked, concern faltering in his voice. He stood up and moved over to the smaller man.

"It's just that stupid cut Britain gave you yesterday-I didn't see it there and scratched it by accident."

"It's bleeding." Italy muttered, looking at Germany's (or rather, his own body's) arm.

"I know. It's OK. It doesn't hurt." he squeaked a high voice. "There'll be a scar somewhere on your arm too-he got me as well...so be careful." Germany forced a smile on Italy's usually beaming face. Italy smiled back, finding it difficult to move the muscles so used to being contracted in a frown.

"That's weird." Italy remarked.

"What?"

"Yesterday."

"What _about_ yesterday?"

"Isn't it strange that Britain scratched _both_ of us with his pen? And why did he even have his pen out in the first place-it's not like he was writing anything!" Germany stared blankly at Italy.

"Mein Gott," Germany spluttered clumsily in an Italian accent. "You're right. That does seem... _suspicious_. You don't think all of this was... _Britain's work_?"

"Why would _he_ do this to us?"

"I'm not sure. But we need to find out. We must keep a special watch on him and go to that meeting."

"But Germany, you just said-"

"I _know_. But if he is responsible for... _this_ , then we need to make him change us back.

End of Chapter 2

A/N: And that's chapter 2 everyone! Britain's magic (as predicted) didn't work as he intended and in the next chapter, he finally gets to see the result of his spell...Stay tuned. :b


	3. Chapter 3

1

Britain shuffled slowly in between several other countries as everyone filed inside the board room. Today was the day, he thought to himself. The success of his magic would all be revealed in this meeting. A small smile warmed on his face as he sat down and reshuffled his papers. _Everyone will think of me as a kind of God; I'll have fixed two troublesome nations which will make world decisions so much smoother. They have no choice but to bow down to me-and old Frog Face won't be able to do anything about it._ Upon glancing up, Britain scanned the large table and spotted Germany and Italy sitting down. _Ah, there they are. Well, they certainly look different. Italy's face is deadly serious-that's possibly the first time I've ever seen him without any expression. And Germany, is he...smiling? Wow, my magic really did work. Let's see what they have to say for themselves._

Germany watched Britain from the other side of the room, not taking his eye off him once. _I suppose he does look suspicious. The way he keeps shuffling his papers. And...he keeps looking up at us every two seconds. Maybe he did have something to do with all this after all._ Much to Britain's disappointment, instead of Germany, America stood up and marched proudly to the head of the table, thrusting a powerful finger in the air.

"OK dudes! Today's world meeting will be led by me because I'm the hero and I can actually run a functioning discussion!" Around now, Britain would have interjected with a bitter, irritated curse, but today he sat with his head down, trying to figure out the behaviour change in both Italy and Germany. Deciding he had left enough of a gap since he last looked up, Britain stole a glance across the table. To his surprise, he found Italy staring menacingly back at him. The man shifted in his seat, somewhat unnerved, and cleared his throat. Another couple of minutes passed before Britain lifted his head. Italy remained unchanged, staring him down. What had he done? Was this the magic's fault? Beads of sweat began to form on the man's forehead, panic washing over him. Italy looked like he could pounce on Britain at any moment-all it would take was a slight hesitation and the man was sure Italy would be on him in the blink of an eye. Britain quickly scanned the room in frustration. Everyone sat, somewhat reluctantly, listening to America's endless narcissistic rant. How could they just sit there so peacefully when Italy looked ready to attack. How could they not understand his problem! Britain bit his lip. He had to get out. He had to go back and try to fix the magic before something terrible happened. He waited for the right moment and took a deep breath. Germany watched him the whole time and, as soon as Britain glanced up one final time, anticipated his next action. Both stood up at the same time, Britain flitting quickly out of the room. Germany, or Italy, as it would appear to everyone else, leapt nimbly past the other chairs and was out of the room in pursuit of Britain. Italy-or Germany in appearance-sheepishly rose to his feet and let out a conflicted whimper before running pathetically after Germany. America was left speechless, a rare moment in everyone's eyes. All the other nations looked to the door, mouths slightly open in shock. America's obnoxious laugh suddenly erupted and everyone's attention turned back to him.

"Dudes! What was _that_ about! That was crazy weird! Britain looked _totally_ freaked out! And did you see Germany? Man, that was amazing-I could cry! Oh, I'm crying." America smiled, pushing up his glasses to wipe his eyes. The other countries blinked in silence. None of them found it as remotely funny and were mostly left confused-all curious as to why all that happened.

"I say we go and follow them!" France suggested, looking to America.

"France, dude, just because you like Britain, you don't have to go everywhere with him! He can handle himself!" France grew bright right.

"I don't like that hairy little caterpillar!"

2

Britain bounded the steps of the UN building's entrance and staggered away as fast as he could. Italy and Germany ran not that far behind.

"Italy!" Germany called. "We'll never catch him at this pace. Your body is useless so _please_ , I need you to use mine! You need to run as fast as my body can carry you and catch that crook!"

"But-"

"NO BUTS!" Germany roared in a squeaky Italian voice, which still served menacing enough to send Italy sprinting furiously towards Britain, a cloud of dust rising behind him. Within a matter of seconds, Italy had closed in on Britain and was almost within touching distance. A rush of adrenaline pumped through his body and Italy suddenly felt a hit of energy to his head.

"Stay away!" Britain cried in a faltered shriek. "Don't come any closer!" Italy ignored his words and stayed hot in pursuit. Upon looking up ahead, he could see Britain was heading towards a dead end-there was nowhere for him to go. Britain realised this quickly and whipped round. Italy, seizing what could be his only opportunity to look powerful, stood up as tall as he could, towering over Britain, his shadow engulfing the other. Germany slowed to a halt, out of breath from straining Italy's weak body, and watched in disbelief as Italy took heavy, threatening steps forward, forcing Britain towards the wall. Was this truly the same, cowardly, defenceless man he knew?

"Please!" Britain whimpered, his back pressed against the cold, brick wall. "Germany! I can explain!" He grappled desperately at the bricks behind him, finding no purchase on any of them.

"I am not Germany." The man replied, somewhat coldly.

"Pardon?" Britain whispered. "... _Italy_?" The man nodded. "B-but...but _how_?"

"You tell us." a voice sounded from behind. Germany stepped forward, still slightly lost for breath.

" _Germany_?" Britain faltered.

"You owe us an explanation, Britain." Britain bowed his head and sighed.

"Indeed I do."

3

Britain, Italy and Germany stood in front of the glowing pentagram.

"...And I just thought the two of you might be better off for it. Us too. But it would seem, things didn't really go as I planned..." Britain hung his head in embarrassment.

"You had good intentions, Britain." Germany said through Italy's cheery tone. Britain smiled. "But I think things are better left the way they are. You saw what happened with Italy. In my body, he became powerful-and I'm not sure he'd know how to manage that. You must change us back-I can't stand being in this body!"

"Aw!" Italy piped up. "But I like being big and strong. And my voice doesn't crack every two seconds! Please don't change me back! I don't want to be pathetic again!"

" _Italy_!" Germany bellowed-or, as best as he could with Italy's voice. "That's _my_ body and I want it back!" Britain chuckled and picked up a small, decorated knife from the desk behind him.

"Germany, if I may?" Britain motioned for the man to come closer. Germany held out his (or Italy's) arm. The man carefully made a small incision in the skin and brought the sightly blood stained blade to the pentagram. Germany winced slightly with the pain. The droplets of blood rolled off the knife and the smoky apparition of Italy appeared before them.

"Hey, it's me!" Italy exclaimed, pointing to the figure. Britain nodded.

"You're next, Italy." With an uncertain whimper, Italy extended his arm for Britain to cut. The same process happened-Italy gritted his teeth, small tears bubbling in Germany's ice-blue eyes as the blade pierced the skin-and the hazy outline of Germany appeared. "OK. Let's begin." Britain turned over his shoulder and reached for the thick, embroidery-backed book. He turned to the right page and began reciting the spell out loud.

"The intent of this magic: to change and return,

Now give me the power to bring back what they yearn,

The beings before us must give back what they gained,

Blood for blood, may their happiness maintain!" Britain cried as the same explosion of light erupted from the cores of the two apparitions. In the blinding light, Britain heard the smacks of bodies hitting the stone floor. He whipped round, his hair flying violently in front of his face. As the light faded away, Germany and Italy's unconscious bodies were revealed, strewn on the floor. He rushed to their sides. Germany's chest rose and fell steadily. So did Italy's. Britain sighed in relief. Germany suddenly began to twitch. Britain quickly rose to his feet and stood back. His sparkling blue eyes scanned the room for a moment before he tried sitting up, experimentally. He looked to his hands, flipping his palm over, this way and that. He dabbed his hands down his cheeks and smiled warmly. He looked down at his clothes in one final check, and at the sight of his _own_ shirt upon his _own_ chest, he jumped to his feet and ran over to Britain, squeezing him tightly.

"You did it! Mein Gott, you _did_ it! I'm _back_!"

"Germany!" Britain squeaked, crushed in the German's embrace. "Can't breathe! Can't breathe! Get off me, wanker!"

"I'm _back_!" a horrified cry sounded from behind. Germany let go of Britain and both men turned to Italy who sat miserably on the floor, pinching his own shirt. He flopped forward slowly and lay pathetically in that position for a while before Germany eventually came over and scooped him up, throwing him over his shoulder. Germany turned back and smiled to Britain, nodding in gratitude. Britain nodded back and watched them leave.

"You've not said a whole word on the way home, Italy." Italy frowned, his amber eyes glistening. "I hate to see you like this-it's so unlike you! How about I help...I help you _make some pasta_ when we get in?" Italy's face suddenly lit up.

"You want to _help me_? Make _pasta?_ "

"Yes." Germany said, forced.

"Then what are you waiting for! I've seen for myself how fast you can run, let's get home!"

Germany picked up the pace and shook his head pitifully. _He's so gullible._

 **The end**

 **A/N: And there you have it. Honestly, I had no plans for this chapter so if it seems less fitting or less impressive than the other two chapters, that's why. Hope you enjoyed anyway! Asta la pasta my friends! :3**


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